


Full Moon October

by acehigh163



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: First Dates, First Meetings, Fluff, Gay Male Character, M/M, Making Love, Making Out, Romance, a little bit of drinking, a lot of sap, and did i mention romance?, some cliche cheesiness for good measure
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:46:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acehigh163/pseuds/acehigh163
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>First meeting goes incredibly right and our marble god discovers he's really just a river of molten lava looking for a heat vent. Blame it all on the full moon!</p>
            </blockquote>





	Full Moon October

**Full Moon October**

“Oh c’mon, Enjolras! It’ll be fun, really! Besides, you seriously need some culture in your life. When was the last time you did anything just for fun? And by fun I don’t mean organizing a protest rally!” Courfeyrac could be very insistent when he wanted to be and now he was using that considerable skill to badger his dear friend Enjolras into attending a play at the community theater.

“Jehan has been working really hard on the sets and scenery. He’s so excited about the show and it would mean a lot to him if you came” continued Courf.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go! But only if you promise to shut up about it and leave me alone now. I’ve got work to do!” Enjolras said in a tone both annoyed and resigned.

“I promise!” said Courf delightedly and threw his arms around his friend in a quick, light hug. Enjolras really wasn’t the touchy-feely type.

The small black box style theater was packed the night that Courf and Enjolras attended the performance. It was an original comedy about a man coming to terms with his sexual orientation and the often hilarious situations he finds himself in as he struggles to hide his ‘secret life’ from family, co-workers and friends. Jehan was still hard at work behind the scenes so Courf and Enjolras sat together with some of their other friends a few rows from the front. It was a good play, even Enjolras had to admit that much, and it seemed he really had enjoyed himself. He and Courf went backstage afterwards to congratulate Jehan on a job well done and to meet some of the actors. Jehan introduced Courf, his partner, and their good friend Enjolras to a few of the cast members before he had to leave them and get back to work.

One of the actors they met was a young dark haired man with the deepest green eyes Enjolras had ever seen. He had smiled warmly at Enjolras when they were introduced, holding eye contact as he extended his hand and said “Hi, I’m Grantaire, but most people just call me ‘R’.”

Enjolras had smiled shyly as he returned the handshake and said “Hi, I’m Enjolras. Pleased to meet you, ‘R’.” Then he had looked away quickly, gripped by a sudden fear of getting very lost in those deep sea-green eyes.

Courf carried the rest of the conversation, much to Enjolras’ relief, until Jehan rejoined them and said they were all headed to a cast party at the local bar, a popular hangout called Café Musain. Courf and Jehan insisted of course that Enjolras join them there though they knew he wasn’t much of a party-goer. He was by nature a serious young man with a brilliant mind, studious, socially introverted but charismatic and an eloquent speaker, especially on those topics closest to his heart. He was an activist and an organizer, majoring in law with a minor in political science. He was always involved with one cause or another, everything from LGBT rights and economic equity to rainforest conservation and protecting endangered species. So there was not a lot of time or space in his life for social occasions or even for art and culture. Yet here he was at Café Musain on this mid-October evening, watching Courf and Jehan work the room while he sat alone at a corner table, lost in his own thoughts and slowly nursing a pint of stout ale. Suddenly he became aware of someone standing beside him, a deep voice breaking through the din asking “Is this seat taken?”

Enjolras looked up to see those deep green eyes again, a confident smile as the actor, the one who called himself ‘R’, waited for an invitation to sit. Enjolras smiled shyly again, nodded toward the empty chair, giving silent permission for Grantaire to join him.

“Enjolras, right?” asked Grantaire as he sat, still smiling broadly.

“Yes, and you’re called ‘R’, right?”

“Indeed I am, good sir!” Grantaire answered jovially, raising his glass, obviously a few drinks ahead of Enjolras. “Tell me then, Enjolras, what is it that you do?”

“I’m a student at the university”, he replied, “A law student but I also study political science.”

“Oh, how perfectly dreadful for you!” Grantaire said emphatically and with absolutely no trace of insincerity. “Politics are a morass, my good man, a muddy bog, a quicksand pit that swallows decent fellows whole!”

Enjolras felt his hackles rising as this over confident and somewhat inebriated stranger passed rather harsh judgment on his career path. “Your opinion, sir” replied Enjolras curtly. “And what is it that YOU do?” 

“I, sir, am an artist, a student of life and on this occasion, an actor” answered Grantaire, making a grand flourishing gesture with the hand not holding the bottle. “I seek lightness, truth and beauty in the mundane and take pleasure wherever I may find it.”

As obnoxious and boorish as this ‘R’ character was, still there was something so intriguing about him that Enjolras was finding it difficult to avert his gaze away from those amazing green eyes, the warm smile that seemed to light his whole face, the gorgeous curls in his raven hair.

A voice that came from Enjolras but one that he did not recognize as his own was speaking: “There’s a full moon out tonight. Would you like to go for a walk with me?”

“I would love to” Grantaire replied in a voice more soft and sincere than his earlier rather boisterous one.

They left the café together, walking slowly, heading toward the river about half a mile’s distance. The sky was cloudless and the air crisp and clean. “What sort of art do you make?” asked Enjolras.

“Painting mostly, watercolors, some oils too. But I also sketch a lot and I’ve done a bit of sculpting” replied Grantaire, mildly flattered that Enjolras had inquired. “Do you know much about art?” Grantaire asked.

“Honestly, no I don’t”, answered Enjolras, an admission he would usually be loath to make but now somehow he felt was safe.

“I could show you some of my work sometime if you’d like”, offered Grantaire.

 “Yes, I think I would enjoy that”, said Enjolras, again in that voice he didn’t quite recognize.

They sat on the low wall by the river’s edge and listened to its gentle current flowing past them, some small eddys visible in the moonlight.

“Why do you pursue law and politics then, Enjolras?” asked Grantaire, his tone now curious, soft and genuine, lacking any judgment.

 “I believe we should all strive to better our communities, our whole world; to use our talents and abilities to improve the condition of those less fortunate than ourselves; to help the oppressed achieve social equity and economic justice by whatever means necessary. I firmly believe this is our sacred duty in this life, our moral obligation as human beings together on this earthly journey.” Enjolras, looking out toward the river, spoke these words easily and with his usual passion and eloquence, temporarily losing his shy reserve in the presence of this captivating stranger.

When he looked back at Grantaire again, he was stunned by what he saw there. There was an electricity, a palpable energy emanating from the other man, rapidly filling the space between them, a look of pure desire on his face, a white heat in his sea-green eyes. Enjolras froze, suddenly paralyzed with fear, felt his own heart beating wildly out of control in his chest. Grantaire reached a hand out gently toward Enjolras, softly touched his now very flushed cheek, brushed a stray lock of blonde hair away from his sky blue eyes. Smiling, he said quietly “I would love to paint you just like this. You’re so beautiful in this light.”

Enjolras, so eloquent just moments ago, stammered “I….uh…I’m…I mean... I don’t usually do this kind of thing.”

Grantaire quieted him, lightly placed a finger on Enjolras’ lips, ran his hand through his blonde locks, gently cupped the back of his head with his strong but tender hand, pulling Enjolras’ face closer to his own till their foreheads rested against each other’s. In a voice both soft and full of desire, Grantaire whispered “Would you permit me to kiss you?”

Enjolras could find no voice so he nodded his permission wordlessly, moving to press his lips against Grantaire’s, then parting them so their tongues could explore each other, softly at first, then more hungrily, then wildly; kissing, sucking, probing while hands roamed freely over each other’s backs, shoulders, chests, hips, thighs…

A sudden desperate need for closer contact, for the warmth of skin overtook them both at once and reluctantly they broke apart, resting their foreheads together again, struggling to regain control of their breathing and wildly racing heartbeats.

 “I live not far from here” Grantaire whispered so close to Enjolras’ ear that his skin broke out in goose bumps everywhere. He shuddered involuntarily, though visibly enough so that when they stood up Grantaire pulled him close and wrapped both arms around him for warmth. Enjolras offered no resistance, was amazed by how willingly he allowed this perfect stranger to touch him, hold him. There was such a naturalness to this contact, something safe, even familiar about it, as though they’d known each other forever, perhaps in another lifetime, though Enjolras did not believe in such things.

Desperate though they were to be closer, to lay together, still they walked slowly, hands clasped, fingers interlaced, stopping here and there to kiss in the light of the full moon. When at last they reached Grantaire’s small flat, they sat together on the edge of his bed for a time, talking softly, touching, kissing, drinking each other in. They wanted to make each minute last for an hour, wanted to make this evening last for an eternity. They made love over and over again all night till the full moon disappeared, dawn broke through the veil of darkness and daylight crept softly through the window. They fell asleep then, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms, slept a deep, calm and peaceful sleep, tangled up in each other- mind and body, heart and soul.


End file.
